Jayde Willingham

Hi, I’m Jayde! I thought I’d kick off this blog series by sharing a bit about how I found my way into astronomy. Spoiler: it’s not the most straightforward story, but it’s not too far off the beaten path either! Like many people, I’ve had those moments of wondering: Am I on the right track? The decision to pursue astrophysics wasn’t some sudden epiphany—it was more like a series of small, interconnected “aha” moments that eventually clicked into place. Here, I’ll share my journey, what drew me to this field, and how I figured out it was the right fit for me so we can all be up to speed. Whether you’re considering a similar path or just love hearing how people find their passions, I hope my story resonates with you and maybe even helps bring a little clarity to your own journey.

As far back as I can remember, I dreamed of becoming the sixth member of Hi-5, the Australian kids' band I was completely obsessed with. (Yes, that was a job aspiration!) Then, somewhere in the swirling fog of childhood memories, I decided I wanted to be a palaeontologist. Weird choice, considering dinosaurs low-key terrified me—but I loved them anyway.
At some point, I wanted to be an astronaut. That might have been my first real link to space. But then it was back to singing—Broadway dreams this time. As I got older, something inside me tugged at my seams, pulling me toward the world outside my doorstep. Cue a string of bold, ambitious, and wildly different dreams: photographer, travel blogger, Lonely Planet writer, full-time conservation volunteer (I mean, elephants?!), fighter pilot, regular pilot, and—yep—back to astronaut. By my final years of high school, I’d even taken a TAFE course (like trade school, for non-Aussies) to earn a Certificate III in Travel, Tourism, and Events. Trust me, this will get to physics eventually!
Looking back, I think the common thread was my craving for exploration. I wanted to understand as much as I could about the world and cram my brain full of everything it had to offer.
During all this daydreaming, I was balancing school life with the highest-level courses in mathematics, physics, chemistry, advanced English, and ancient history. My brain seemed wired for logic and problem-solving, while my heart thirsted for creativity. This made me a bit of an all-rounder, but I really shone in STEM. The better I did, the more I enjoyed it. There was nothing like the satisfaction of cracking a tough problem.
My physics and math teachers played a huge role in my journey. They were incredible mentors who inspired me to stay on this path. Without them, who knows where I’d be? Sometimes, life throws those external influences your way—the "rocks in the road" that split up your options and force you to choose a direction. Even in ancient history, I brought my problem-solving mindset to the table. My final project was a deep dive into Greek mythology—connecting literary works like the Iliad to trace their origins and relationships.

When it came time to apply for university, I couldn’t quite decide between mathematics and physics, so I went for both—applying for double degrees in both fields. Honestly, it’s totally okay not to have everything figured out at once! I even threw in some advanced history tracks for good measure. In the end, I accepted a double degree at the University of Newcastle, Australia. It was the closest university (just over two hours from my hometown) that offered the combination I wanted.
As much as my dreams of seeing the world filled my head, I’ll admit moving away from the only place I’d ever known was terrifying. Newcastle already felt huge—big city, big rent, big traffic. And as the first in my family to go to university, it was double the pressure. But you know what? It worked out wonderfully. Newcastle became a home away from home, and I still love it to this day.
University was a game-changer for me. It helped me figure out what I really wanted from a career. But let me tell you, university mathematics? Hard. Miss one key concept, and you’re scrambling to catch up for the next three years. It was definitely a challenge, and I felt like I wasn’t measuring up to some of the other students. That feeling wasn’t helped by some professors who, let’s say, didn’t exactly exude encouragement. I had one professor who outright ignored my emails, and I can’t lie—it made me feel singled out. I hate playing the “I was the only woman in a male-dominated class with a male professor” card, but... yeah, it was tough. Before that, I hadn’t really thought much about biases or gender dynamics in STEM, but this experience forced me to confront it. I can’t say for sure that was the cause, but it sure felt like I was the only one being treated that way.
It was discouraging, and honestly, it made me fall out of love with math for a while.
Physics, though? That was a completely different story. The professors were engaging and supportive, and if I didn’t grasp a concept right away, I could revisit it without feeling judged. Physics combined the problem-solving and logic I loved in math with an element of creativity—whether in tackling a topic or presenting an idea.
And that’s when I knew: my path forward would be in physics.
Let’s circle back to that ancient history research project I mentioned earlier—the one where I was connecting myths and stories. That deep-dive style of exploration stuck with me, and I wanted to bring that same curiosity to physics. So, I signed up for every summer research opportunity I could find. Somewhere along the way, I decided research was my future. Physics research for life!

One of my early projects was in quantum physics, focusing on its applications. It was super hands-on, in a lab with lasers, and I felt like a science-version of Indiana Jones—digging through problems, uncovering solutions, and making discoveries. I loved it. The professor leading the project was amazing too, which definitely nudged me further toward quantum studies. I started focusing on quantum topics, even taking extra courses outside of uni.
But then, that tiny little voice in my head piped up: “Hey Jayde, remember how you used to think space was so cool?”
At Newcastle, astrophysics wasn’t really on the menu—it was more pure physics. So, I hadn’t explored that side of things yet. After graduating with a Bachelor of Mathematics (pure and applied major) and a Bachelor of Science (physics major), I faced a big decision: What’s next?
Most of my friends were heading into their honours year—a key stepping stone to a PhD in Australia. But I wasn’t ready to lock myself into one field just yet. I needed time to figure it out. So, I enrolled in a two-year Master of Research program at Macquarie University. This was a huge leap for me—moving to a big-city university with an extra year of coursework. But Macquarie was known for its astrophysics and quantum research teams, and that first year was all about advanced coursework, giving me the chance to dip my toes into both fields. I wanted to make sure I wouldn’t look back in 20 years and wish I’d chosen differently.

Looking back, it makes sense why I was drawn to both quantum and space. They both revolve around light, something I find endlessly fascinating and beautiful. But space? It had it all. I could blend as much (or as little) math as I wanted, work with real data and instruments, and immerse myself in coding—which, weirdly enough, I find therapeutic. And, of course, there were the gorgeous, awe-inspiring images of the universe that reminded me why I wanted to explore in the first place.
Let’s talk about my speciality! Okay, it’s still taking shape, but I’ve got a pretty good idea of where I’m headed. I’m drawn to galaxy evolution—especially using early-universe observations from JWST (possibly the coolest telescope ever—yes, I’m a fangirl). I want to explore what galaxy evolution can teach us about big cosmological questions like:

This focus came about after reading a ton of papers and realizing which ones actually got me excited. When you start nerding out over certain topics, it’s a good clue you’re on the right track.
I’ve also discovered that I love science communication. There’s something so fulfilling about explaining complex ideas in a way that makes people feel curious and empowered—not belittled or intimidated. I’d love a career where I can blend research with teaching, creating course material, and making STEM more accessible. That would scratch both my academic itch and the creative seed in my soul.
Here’s what I’ve learned so far: it’s okay—and totally normal—for your career path to feel like a series of small steps, detours, and adjustments rather than one smooth, continuous flow. What helped me most was reflecting on the skills I wanted to develop, the impact I wanted to make, and how I could bring elements of my hobbies into my day-to-day work.
Of course, I still have a long way to go—this is just the beginning of my journey! If you’re interested, I’ll be documenting it here as I navigate the “how-to” of my chosen path.
How do you even do research? What challenges will I face? How does one “conference”? Networking? Who is she? PhD applications? Being a postgrad?
I have no idea. But let’s figure it out together!